


Dreaming of Space

by CanisLupusAqua



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 08:09:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19884400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanisLupusAqua/pseuds/CanisLupusAqua
Summary: Dreams are wild, bro.





	Dreaming of Space

I have been known to ridicule those who keep journals of their dreams. I used to believe that dreams were of no consequence to everyday life; I saw them as the brain’s filing process and nothing more. When, one night, I had a dream in which I was frighteningly lucid, I dismissed it as hormonal imbalance. When, the next night, I had a dream of the same nature, I took it upon myself to research lucid dreaming. Reassured that this was a natural phenomenon, I continued to ignore these dreams for the next few days. This proved increasingly difficult upon having the same dream every night for about a week. The most frustrating part was my continual inability to remember anything about the dream except for the feeling that I had interacted with something immense. At this point, I was thoroughly irritated, and I decided to document the dreams. My first account goes as follows:

“I find myself surrounded by a multitude of floating flames — drops of white flickering against an empty backdrop. Each one seems bright, but their light doesn’t shine on anything. I feel like I’m standing on a cool surface, but looking down, all I see is inky darkness. I walk forward and try to touch the lights, but my body just moves through them. I see no end to this field of lights in any direction. I turn around slowly to try and grasp the scale of this dreamscape and, upon turning full circle, see a person sitting in an armchair. The color of the figure and armchair match almost exactly the space in between the ethereal lights. Struggling to identify the person, I notice that every flame surrounding us is reflected in them, and I am mesmerized by each one’s feeble dance. After an eternity, they turn their head towards me and open their eyes. If the lights around us were the flames of a candle, this person’s eyes are the blinding brilliance of a supernova. The promise of pain pales before the burning desire to gaze into the light, to understand it, to become part of it. And so, we stare at each other.”

Putting the experience into words and onto paper was moving. The memory of the dream suddenly became powerfully vivid in my mind. I was stunned for a full minute before the memory was replaced by a singular thought: I needed to meet this person again. I spent the greater part of the morning trying and failing to fall asleep before conceding defeat and going on with my day.

Night fell, and I dreamt again. After waking up this time, I had no trouble remembering the lights, the figure, and the blazing eyes, but I still felt the need to see them again.

The next night, the same dream came to me. As it did on the next night, and every night thereafter for a month. The obsession never died down. I grew concerned for my own well-being as I grew lax in my work and daily routine. 

Another month of this madness passed, and I felt like my life was out of my own hands. Desperation began to eat away at my mind as I was held hostage by this dream. I needed to find a way to put an end to this.

Any reasonable person would have consulted a therapist. I would have told myself as much were I in a state to give myself reasonable advice. Unfortunately, I wasn’t, and I decided to confront the dream itself.

Asleep again and transfixed by the explosions that masqueraded as eyes, it took all my willpower to bring myself out of the daze and, in the faintest voice, force a question out of my throat.

“Who are you?”

All the lights began to fade, and I felt my mind coming back under my own control. The figure rose from their armchair and slowly walked over to me. By the time they reached me, all I could see was the dim remnant of their eyes and the faint outline of their body. They kissed me on the cheek and whispered something into my ear. I never remembered what they said, only what followed. As soon as they finished, their eyes disappeared completely, and my own began to heat up. I felt myself falling backwards as my eyes, my optic nerves, and, finally, my brain started to catch fire.

I woke up. I felt at peace.


End file.
